Orgins
by Stoor
Summary: This story is about Smeagol's life before the ring and his begings.
1. Begingss: Mother & Father

She was such a young thing, only a girl by their  
standards. She had dark hair but bright eyes, and a  
voice that was clear and high perfect for singing.   
She was named Ellinbella, but everyone called her  
Linbelle. She wandered over hills, reeds singing  
softly to herself. And everyone seemed to love her,  
she was only fifteen, but many dreamed of marrying of  
her when she was old enough to have the little bird in  
their own cage also her family happened to wealthy,  
large and well respected.  
Ellinbella didn't care about any of them, her bright  
eyes stared out into the distance and her voice seemed  
to carry her away.   
Then one day, she quite sure she was alone in the  
grove when he came. He wasn't like any she had ever  
seen everyone she knew was shorter and plumper. The  
stranger came and he was slender, pale, and tall. She  
almost mistook him for a man. His hair was flaxen and  
his eyes like blazing emeralds.   
He had traveled far, he had seen men, elves and  
dwarves, but not his own kind. Who he left, for  
reasons that he didn't even know himself. He heard  
that voice, and it lead him. Until he found the maiden  
who was smaller and rounder then his own folk. But she  
seemed twice as lovely all set a-quiver with her raven  
locks and how her face grew red when she saw him. It  
made him smile, he knew how young she was but it  
didn't matter.  
The stranger asked Ellinbella to sing and she obliged  
willingly, though her voice trembled as she sang, she  
sang the old songs with a pride she had never known.  
She sang:   
_"When I was in my prime,   
I flourished like a vine.   
Along there came a false young man,   
Come stole the heart of mine...."_   
  
Though she didn't know what the words quite meant.  
They talked and laughed, he told her of the world, and  
she marveled. She sang to him, and he marveled. Soon  
they were in each others arms and soon they were  
lovers. He camped in the grove and for they met, and  
loved.   
On third day Ellinbelle came back, singing and full of  
joy. The stranger was gone, not trace of him remained  
she had never learned his name. She cried and for  
days, and the world itself seemed to have gone black  
with his absence.   
Ellinbelle found he had left her one memento, a  
presence, a child was growing within her. 


	2. Birthday

  
Ellinbella's fair brow was covered with sweat and tears streamed from her bright eyes. She wept and she wailed. Her sister Mag, her mother and serving maids busied around her. The sisters just watched, clucking their tongues and rolling their eyes in disdain.  
Ellinbella cried out:   
"MAMA! MAMA! PLEASE HELP ME! THE PAIN! THE PAIN! MAMA ... MAMA..." She screamed again, grasping her bed clothes, so hard her knuckles turned white.  
  
"Come now, stop that it'll be over just push you little fool!" Said her mother, Arnthora, grizzled, grey and severe.  
  
"But... maaamaaa...... It hurts so much....." She murmured mind and body choked with such agony she could not articulate it.  
  
"JUST PUSH! I gave birth to ten children and you don't see me whining about it. And I've over seen the birth a dozen grandchildren no one complains as much as you do." Arnthora remarked curtly. But she took her daughter's hand.  
  
Ellinbella screamed, she cried and pleaded. Arnthora did not relent the old matron had no idea how to stop the pain, she wasn't going to go all soft on Linbella.  
"It was your own fault, you got yourself into this.. with your skipping off to groves.. my youngest daughter I should kick you out I have every right." She growled at the girl. As Linbella screamed and the midwife panicked Arnthora squeezed her child's hand tightly.  
  
"STOP IT! STOP! STOP IT Now.... I want to STOPPPPPPPP!!!!" Ellinbelle cried her dark hair plastered to her face with the sweat of her brow.   
  
"JUST one more push Linbella dearest, almost there..." Came the comforting voice of Mag  
  
"I w-want....." Ellinbella began. Then came a cry and slap, the child was finally born. "It's a boy!" The midwife called.  
Ellinbella breathed a weary sigh and closed her eyes in sleep.  
  
  
"A boy?" Mag said. "Well, now we have to think of a good name then..."  
  
"If the child survives, boys are weak when there born, give it three days, if it lives well name it then Magdinar until then I'm just calling a bastard." Arnthora said watching with her world worn eyes as the little thing was washed quickly then swaddled.  
  
Ellinbella's eyelashes flicked she was still very weary but now half awake. "May, I hold him?" She asked her bright eyes sparkled.  
They handed her the infant, she cradled him, in her arms, he was so tiny and so still. "Your eyes are blue... now like mine... but I think they'll be turning.... just like your fathers..." She cooed softly and held him.  
  
At mention of the the child's father half the tongue cluckers, her sisters and sister-in-laws left in disgust. Arnthora shook her head, grabbed her gnarled cane and left the room with the midwife in order to settle the payment. Ellinbella started to nurse her son.  
  
Mag, bent over to get a closer look. Mag, was the second youngest, already married the gap of years between her and Linbella was a little over ten and a half years. Mag always faithful and sweet, which made up for the fact she was so mousy and plain.   
  
"I love the little ones," Mag said. "but after marrying Old Bob, I doubted whether I'd have any,"  
Old Bob or as he was properly called Bodkin Gritsand was nearly fifty-seven and windower for thirty years when he married Magdinar. Though he was a kind man, and good husband he already had four children by his previous wife and didn' t seem want to anymore.   
"Your son will have a playmate in six short months, I'm already three months gone with child," Mag beamed. "I was going to say something but with the scandal and all."  
  
Ellinbella smiled. "Your so kind dear sister, but I am so tired.... I feel as if I've trudged on some hard journey for days and I need rest.... would you mind?"  
  
Mag nodded. "If you need anything, I'll be right outside the door just tell me."  
She left and for a an hour, it was still and quiet. Then Mag heard a voice calling her faintly form within the room, it was almost to weak to hear.  
She rushed in, at her sister's call, Ellinbella lay there looking pale and tired, the infant was sleeping by her side and she gestured Mag to be quiet.  
  
"I'm cold Mag, I feel so...." She sighed then. "cold.. please get me some blankets... and I'm so tired...."  
  
Mag nodded, she went to the trunk at the end of the bed and pulled out heaps of warm blankets. Pilling them onto her sister, tucking them in well and good all around her.  
  
"Is that good?" Mag asked.  
  
"I'm sorry," She sighed ." But I'm still cold... I don't know why..."  
  
"It doesn't matter, I'll get you warm now." Mag reassured her, she pulled out more blankets from the trunk, and put them on the bed. And soon she had removed all the blankets, and quilts form the wall closet and the bed looked like a mountain of bedclothes.   
Ellinbella still pleaded about being cold, and shivered under all the warmth, her voice getting fainter and fainter. "I'm so... cold... so cold... co cold... so tired.... tired... so cold.... I'm drifting.... I'm so cold..."  
  
Mag didn't know what exactly was going on, she thought of making Linbella a cup of hot tea or something. She left the room to get more blankets from the linen closet at the end of the corridor. She sighed under the heavy load and heard her mother's stern voice:  
"What exactly are you doing with that lot?" She said, raising a eyebrow in suspicion.  
  
"Ummm...." Mag started, she tired to make her way down the hall, but Arnthora stood in path.  
  
"Don't tell your sneaking them out, did you lose your laundry in the river again is that it?" Arnthora said  
  
"Mother it's--" Mag began  
  
"Well, your not getting my linens I can tell you that! I've given enough to you already!" Arnthora scowled hard.  
  
"No, their for Ellinbella, she said she was cold so I've putting all the blankets I could, only she kept saying she was cold, so I got more." Mag said. As she did the old matron's eyes grew wide , her face flushed and her jaw gaped.  
"Why didn't you say so twit! Come on, " Arnthora grabbed her old gnarled cane and began hobbling with incredible speed. She turned to Mag. "COME ON, THEN MAG, IF you don't hurry YOUR SISTER WILL DIE!" Arnthora shouted.  
  
MAg dropped the load of blankets and followed after. She got to the room and found the door flung open, the boy was squalling loudly and Arnthora was rushing to the side of the bed. Ellinbella lay, her eyes closed like in sleep, she was wan, fragile and so still.   
Arnthora place her hand on Ellinbella's forehead.   
  
"Cold as clay, she left us, she's dead." Arnthora shook her head.   
  
At that, Mag began to weep, she held kissed her sister's hand and brow repeatedly saying things that were unheard through her hysteria. It was stopped when, Arnthora reached over and slapped her on the face.   
  
"We don't need to babies crying in here, I have a headache, and there is no use in you working yourself into a fit you'll lose your child. Calm down, and get the boy out here." Arnthora muttered.  
  
Mag, took the infant to her shoulder and left, her mother in the room.   
  
  
The old matron never seemed to care much for any of her children, they said. She treated them as if they were servants or chattel all made to do her will. They said that Arnthora never forgave Ellinbella. She wanted the girl to marry rich.   
They never saw what happened after Mag closed the door, they never saw her mumur: songbird, over and over again her own little nickname for her youngest daughter. The one who always brought happiness to old Arnthora's lonely hole with songs and mirth. The one she had cherished, the youngest, still not marred by the world. The only one who could get away, with this crime and not be cast out. Her songbird, the joy in her old age, was gone.  
She, sat at the bedside and traced her fingers over her daughters forehead. She plaited her daughter's black hair into elaborate braid, saying to herself, she was only making her corpse pretty for the funeral.   
  
The preparations took three days. Arnthora decided that was respectable family and any member of the family, should have respectable funeral, no matter the circumstances of their death. Everyone else thought it was just a bad excuse to show off. The boy did not die, he seemed to fight against harder then most.   
He was found a wet nurse, the wife of Waterdrake Raftbinder, (a poor but respectable sort) Iris a strong , young, healthy she had just given birth to a second child, a daughter named Ada a month prior.  
It was also decided that upon, the birth of Mag's child the boy would be turned over to her to nurse. But the boy would be raised in his grandmother's house.  
  
On the day of the funeral, Ellinbella was laid out and it was sworn singing could be heard. That day, Arnthora gave to Ellinbella, was dressed in crimson girdle and white skirts, her black hair plaited tightly, she was placed on a old raft that was laid with sweet smelling flowers and grasses. The raft was taken out and placed into the water by two of Arthora's sons carried it down, and as the custom was taken form men, some of the stoors did this instead of burying the dead becasue space on land was limited. So they set the raft a light and some cried, but most didn't. Many were saddened, some felt she reaped what she sowed but all felt a pang of sorrow for her orphaned child.  
When the boy had lived a month all were surprised. It was thought that most young children confided in their mothers, but since he would grow up with no mother to confide in. He would have to keep all his secrets to himself, they called him Smeagol or secretive. 


End file.
